


Devotee

by UncleTouchyLich



Category: League of Legends
Genre: Body Horror, Breathplay, Death, Dubious Consent, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Extremely Dubious Consent, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Manipulation, Mind Control, Murder, Other, Power Dynamics, Power Imbalance, Power Play, Rape/Non-con Elements, Reader-Insert, Size Difference, Teeth, Undead, Unsafe Sex, light guro, strange anatomy, tongue
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-16
Updated: 2018-08-16
Packaged: 2019-06-28 02:01:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15697860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UncleTouchyLich/pseuds/UncleTouchyLich
Summary: Requested reader-insert- a romantic evening with Karthus gone wrong. Or gone according to his plan, not yours. Dark, unpleasant, explicit, gender-neutral. Join the choir. You should have known.





	Devotee

**Author's Note:**

> I have had a lot of requests and curious anons over the years on uncle-touchy-lich.tumblr.com -specifically, folks wanting a demise via intimacy with Karthus. A real danger, with the way I write him. I'm not one to write reader insert stories, but there was enough of an interest. I love catering to folks if its in my wheelhouse.
> 
> Its ultimately fantastical and unpleasant and I hope people of any gender identity can enjoy it- if that's your poison, man. There you go. 
> 
> Reader beware, be careful out there!

The lich laughs. You thought it would be more tender than this, more gentle. But it isn’t. It isn’t at all how you thought it would be. Gone are the placating smiles and charming quips. Suddenly it’s all clear. You’re something for him to play with and discard. That’s all you ever were. Has Karthus always been this ugly? It’s like the human mask melted off, whatever little there was left and now you can see him clearly, the unsympathetic eyes, the gaunt face, the horrible, predatory teeth. His hands are cold on your bare shoulders and his claws dig into your skin as he draws you forward and up and up towards that nightmare of a mouth. His kiss is a mockery of a human kiss, his breath is cold, tingly and he reeks of ozone. The metallic smell and taste puts you in mind of blood and the smell in the air just before a storm. His tongue touching yours is electric, but not what you’d expected and dreamed of. It wriggles into your mouth, pointed and strange- choking you and where it touches yours there is a jolt, as if you pressed it to a live wire. You gag and convulse as if shocked, once, twice and your lips are cut by his teeth as you writhe. You’re a worm on a hook, a mouse in a trap.

Karthus withdraws his tongue with a wet sound, cooing something into your ear. Pet names that used to make you feel flushed and warm and special. How many others have heard this, and how many didn’t survive? Worse, you could imagine him as a more sensitive lover, taking time in the pleasure of his partner. You get no such treatment, as if it’s on purpose. As if he knows this and he wants this thought to dawn on you, wants it to hurt you. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you expected him to be warmer, you expected the heat of a lover’s body against yours, the racing pulse and sticky skin. His skin is as smooth and pliable as the finest leather and you’re the only one sweating. The member pressing against your inner thigh has a pulse, as regulated and alien as a nuclear clock. Suddenly, the want to have him inside of you is far more alarming a thought than before. Your legs around him shiver uncontrollably. You begin to shake.

“You are not reacting well to my kiss, my child… Blessings upon you. This will be your last experience as a flawed little breakable mortal. Whatever you will be- you get to say goodbye to this form.” He rubs against you, as if savoring the moment, and leans in to lick your chin and cheek. His tongue burns and leaves a painful, viscous trail on your skin and when you try to respond you can barely make a noise. Your throat is dry and swollen and your breathing is labored, wheezing. He seems to find this funny and his laugh is unkind, bringing tears to your eyes. Hurt and fear mingle.

“It is my pleasure to bless you- my what a fine communion. A treat for me, my lambkin.” He gives no warning when he enters you, no niceties, just hard, unfamiliar flesh pushing into you abruptly, forcibly. His inhumanly long arms tangle around you, one of his hands in your hair, claws nicking your scalp. Your arms scrabble instinctively at him, trying to push back, then trying to hold him. Why do you want to hold him? But you do. Maybe it’s just the hand around your neck, squeezing. Maybe it’s the flickering lights and your gasps for air but this feels right again. It’s hard to breathe- he’s too big and too heavy, and every time he thrusts the air is knocked out of you. You can’t tell, but if feels as though if something has broken or torn inside you- you’re numb and bruised from his unyielding body smacking against yours and a muscle in your hip is cramping in protest. Something in your abdomen doesn't feel right anymore, something is wrong but you can't reach down to feel and you wonder if you're bleeding.

You’re not sure if this is the worst thing you’ve ever felt or the best. The hand around your throat squeezes harder, and lights pop and shift in front of your eyes, little bursts of blue and yellow light. You strain to see his face, the face you've worshiped and served so faithfully, your eyes watering, cloudy. Images stream, and you think you hear voices all around you at the edges of your hearing, mocking you, crying, screaming, cajoling. You taste metal. Your body starts to shudder all over and your neck keeps jerking backwards. Numbly you realize that you’re foaming at the mouth, gagging, lurching. Time loses meaning. Words lose meaning. You can feel that nuclear pulse in you, merciless, uncaring, ruining.

Are you climaxing, or dying? You’re not sure. But you feel like you’re on fire and the world must be catching fire around you too.  
Karthus makes a growling noise and snaps his teeth at your head, jagged incisors catching you, slicing through the thin skin of your forehead and you can barely feel it. You feel him climax as he hisses blue smoke into your face. The sensation brings bile to your swollen throat and you want to throw up, the instinct coming roaring up out of you from your dying animal brain. Muscles deep in your abdomen convulse, trying to reject the fluid suddenly pouring into your body cavity. You can feel the fel magic bubbling, seeping through you to places where it shouldn’t be, as if it’s eating through you like a caustic acid. His teeth sink into your face as color and light strobe and grow far away and dim. You feel as though you’re sinking away, down, far from yourself, ears filled with static and a rush like the ocean. 

You think of holding a seashell to your ear as a child, listening to the echo with your eyes closed.

The next time you know you are you- you are staring down at what must have been you.  
By the gods you were so small, so weak. And what are you now but light and power and devotion to the lich. 

Best of all, you know by instinct, you know with the scraps of what you are that he is still near and he, he can still touch you, that you can again hear his voice and that is at once all that matters and all that you can remember.


End file.
